The Artist

Chapter Thirty Six

Harrys brow creases in concentration as he stares intently at the sketchpad in front of him. Occasionally, he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, tilting his head to take in a new perspective.

I peer over the top of my computer to see the masterpiece working on a masterpiece. I should be concentrating, I have a lot of work to do myself.

It's just, I can't help but see him in a new light. I don't see what I saw months ago. I don't see a guarded, ignorant boy anymore. Instead I'm greeted with a much more complex, open version of the same ignorance. It's bliss.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." His voice interrupts my daydreaming. I gaze absently at him, returning to planet earth.

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention." I shake my head whilst blushing.

"Sure you weren't." He smirks.

"Oh shut up." I sigh, grinning down at my computer and getting to work.

The day breezes by smoothly, entirely drama, confrontation and argument free. We walk home hand in hand, letting the bitingly cold winter air tickle our skin.

"I was thinking, you could stay at mine tonight?" Harry muses, while shaking his hair back off his face. "We've stayed at yours for the last week."

I nod eagerly. "Yeah sure! I love your bed-" as soon as I breathe the words I try to retract them, causing a massive smirk to spread like wildfire across his smug, satisfied self.
"I didn't mean-"

"Now now Ellen," he begins and I brace for the impact of his vain teasing, that I know deep down I adore. "I know I'm irresistible to you, and I'm aware of your eagerness to touch me..." He grins as we turn the corner into the foyer of our apartment block. "But please," he continues as we step into the lift. "Contain yourself." He raises an eyebrow and I roll my eyes.

"Whatever." I punch the button for the first floor and fold my arms, tapping my foot as I wait for the doors to part and let us through.

I walk towards his apartment, bypassing my own happily. He unlocks the door and pushes it open.

I wait for him to go in, and he waits for me, then we both attempts squeeze through the door at the same time. Failed mission.

The movement leaves me chest to chest with him. Well, chest to upper stomach in my height deprived case.

He locks his eyes on mine, carefully scanning them. He does this a lot. He looks at you like you're the only thing left to look at. He controls your gaze so you can't look away from him, leaving you utterly paralysed and unable to tear away until he lets you. He's got a hold of me now.

Within a split second, he presses his mouth against mine. Ragged breathes and subtle moans fill the air as I feel my hands pinned above me against the door frame.

With arms reached up, it gives him a perfect opportunity to drag his hands down my body, and make no mistake, he grasps that opportunity in both hands, literally.

"Let's go inside, we don't want to annoy the neighbours." He breathes, and then a flicker of devilment sparks in his emerald eyes, almost completely taken over by the diluted ebony of lust.

"Actually," his voice is deep and laced with attitude. "To hell with that.." He bites my bottom lip as he slides one hand down my pants, making me squirm and scream in shock and pleasure. "I want the whole damn building to know whose you are."

I muster up all my strength not to come undone right here and now and run my hand from his chest to the top of his skinny jeans.

"You don't own me, therefore I'm not yours."

I pull him inside and slam the door shut. Well, the neighbours will definitely hear that, if nothing else.

A few hours, and a whole lot of bliss later and I'm stirring a pan of pasta in his kitchen, wearing nothing but my bra and his t-shirt.

"Ellen have you seen my belt?" Harry asks, buttoning his jeans. I scan the apartment, Christ knows it could be anywhere...

"Did you check the bathroom?" I ask, bashfully reddening.

"Bathroom." He clicks his fingers, "I remember taking it off in there now." He smile, padding off into the bathroom to retrieve his garment.

In his absence, I see his phone flash on the counter top and check it while still managing to stretch out my left arm to stir our late dinner.

A name I don't recognise has sent him a message, someone called Don? I don't remember him mentioning a Don before. I assume it's one of his friends by the general tone of the text.

I'm on my way, mate.

"Harry!" I call him just as he emerges from the bathroom, belt buckled and secure.

"Yes love?" He looks up, smiling. I allow myself a small, childish smile for the lone reason of his calling me 'love'.

"I think one of your friends is coming over." I say, tossing him his phone as he looks confusedly down at the screen. "Can you keep an eye on that pasta while I go get dres-"

"Go home now." He looks up immediately.

"What?" I ask. Go home? What's he talking about.

"Just go over to yours for a while until my.. mate leaves. He's not very nice and I don't want him being rude to you." Harry crosses the room in a few long strides, turning the heat off the pasta and ushering me to his room.

"If he's so rude, why is he your mate?" I raise my brow at him and he deflates in defeat.

"Ellen, please just once do what I ask you. Please, I'll be over soon, OK?" He practically begs. I stare at him blankly, he's afraid. Who the hell is this guy? And why is Harry scared of him?

A knock comes to the door and Harry's eyes close slowly. He takes in a deep breathe, letting it out slowly.

"Can you go get dressed, now." He says with a slight urgency to his voice. Sensing a dangerous feeling I nod and go to his room.

I pull on my jeans and shirt quicker than I think I ever have before in my life.

"Whatever I say, go along with it. Whatever I tell you to do, do it. You hear me?" He says slowly and quietly, his mood scarily calm.

"Harry, you're scaring me-"

"Ellen. I need you to promise me."

I nod, and he guides me to sit down on the sofa and turns the TV on.

He opens the door, and I don't dare turn to see who it is. I hear their conversation but can't make out what's being said until two sets of footsteps walk nearer to me.

"Harry, you've got company!" A mans voice says. It's a voice laced with an infusion of accents. It's like downtown Brooklyn meets Sicily.

"This is Alex." Harry introduces... Me?

I look up at the man, smiling frailly.

I'm shocked by the appearance that greets me.

A man, a little over 'middle-aged' with a round stature, slicked back grey-white hair and a warm smile stares back at me.

"Nice to meet you." He smiles kindly, shaking my hand firmly.

"You too." I reply. Harry stares at our connected hands.

"I won't take up too much of this young mans time." He winks and guides Harry back to the door.

I stare, utterly frozen. What in the name of God is wrong with Harry. All that hullabaloo for him. An old, funny grandad with a limped walk and kind eyes. I do wonder about his sanity sometimes, what with his insomnia and everything...

I prick up my ears, carefully trying to decode their conversation. I only pick up parts, parts that don't make sense when put together without the rest of the script. I hear the words, deal, gallery, Seattle, terminated and finally something that shocks me to my core. Two nouns that I never knew could stir such an unsure, questionable fear inside me.

"Ellen Darke"